Voldemort meets Hitler
by ZeeDraGon
Summary: What ever happened to Lord Voldemort in the afterlife? What would happen if he met someone very similiar to himself? Oneshot.


"_So, it all comes down to this doesn't it?" whispered Harry. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was disarmed? Because if it does . . . I am the true master of the Elder wand."_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

_Tom Marvolo Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snake-like vacant and unknowing . . ._

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_The last thing I remember . . ._

The last thing I remembered . . . was Potter. We were circling each other like two predators, ready to attack, ready to kill. And before I knew it, I'd been defeated by (once again) the signature spell of one, Harry Potter.

Next was darkness. My entire view was plunged into and surrounded by complete darkness. I didn't know where I was, for everything was silent. I began to feel my last piece of soul slowly peel away from my once immortal body, and I felt myself floating away. Hogwarts must be celebrating, because I knew that I was dead.

Suddenly, light was forced unto my eyes, and it momentarily blinded me. I noticed I am still in the clothes I died in. I had no idea where I was. Not hell. Not heaven. Not even earth.

But I was somewhere.

I was standing in the most beautiful piece of nature that had ever reached my sight. It disgusted me.

There was no sun, yet there was light. No clouds. No animals. No life. But I did see something strange; three holes in the ground, a different shade light shining out of each. Wood sign arrows stood beside them, pointing down. The first read; heaven . . . the second; hell . . . And the third; life. How very . . . strange.

"Finally . . . You came!"

I turned around to face the source of the voice that had addressed me. There stood a man. He had jet black hair, combed diagonally, and a thick black moustache. He was wearing a uniform with a red and black symbol on the arm. He beamed at me happily, obviously very glad to see me. Well, _there's_ a first . . .

I was pleasantly surprised that he was not intimidated at my appearance. Surely you would be afraid of someone who had snake-like eyes, bony fingers, pearl white skin, slits for a nose and no lips?

"Do you realise how long I've been waiting for you?" he beamed more excitedly, not fazed by my daunting expression.

"Who are you muggle?" I sneered, appalled that this man would treat me as his equal.

"Ah," he said, still smiling. "Here, no one is a wizard or a muggle, my friend. No magic can be performed here, as we do not possess the power of a solid figure anymore."

I looked at my right hand, and noticed how it seemed a little faint. I also felt as light as air. My wand was also not with me, as Potter had blasted it out of my hand when he had defeated me.

"Where are we?" I asked, my curiosity reaching its end.

He sat down on the grass beside me and patted the seat next to him. I sat down resentfully.

"This, my dear man, you could say is a train station. And these-"he pointed at the glowing holes in the ground, "-are the trains."

"So, then, do we have to, say, board a train?" I asked. I felt stupid for saying that. It sounded like something Dumbledore would say. I vaguely wondered if I would meet him in the afterlife.

"That's right," he nodded, his welcoming smile still plastered on his face.

"And it's my choice then?"

"Yip," he nodded once more.

"Hmmm," I hummed thoughtfully. "I'd never actually thought of the life after death, seeing as I had succeeded in making myself immortal, and had gone farther than anyone could ever dream of, but I surely would have guessed I'd be sent to hell."

"Who would send you then?" he asked enquiringly.

I didn't answer. What do you say to that? Surely anyone would want to send me to hell, as I am almost the devil, himself.

"I also thought I would end up in hell. Almost everyone wants me there," he told me, not a hint of sadness in voice. "I had ruined an entire country and had started a war."

"Who are you then?" I asked.

"Adolf Hitler. Pleased to meet you." And he shook my emaciated hand.

"Lord Voldemort," I introduced myself. It felt strange, telling a person who I was, and I had a feeling that this person had the same sense of weirdness.

"Yes I know," he said. "As I said, I've been waiting for you for years now. I didn't want to jump in a hole on my own, and somehow I knew you would end up here too. So I waited for you."

"Why?"

"Because people like you and me have the potential to control the world. You, obviously a wizard, took over the Wizarding world. I was probably the most feared muggle dictator to exist. Joseph Stalin was here too, but he was too much of a suck-up. I didn't like him much. Pushed him down when he wasn't looking." He mischievously smirked and I guessed there was more history between him and this Stalin person.

I looked at this man intriguingly. I somehow had the thought that we were not that different.

"Tell me," I demanded. He looked up into the pale sky.

"Well, he's in hell now-"

"No, I mean about you," I interrupted impatiently, more keen than I expected myself to be.

"I volunteered at age 25 by enlisting in a Bavarian Regiment, that's like a small army. After its first battle against the British and Belgians, a lot of men in the regiment were killed, wounded or missing. I escaped without a scratch. Throughout most of the war, I had great luck avoiding life threatening injury

"I was an unusual soldier with a sloppy manner and unmilitary bearing, if I should say so myself. But I was also eager for action and always ready to volunteer for dangerous assignments even after many narrow escapes from death.

"I, unlike my fellow soldiers, never complained about bad food and the horrible conditions or talked about women, preferring to discuss art or history. My fellow soldiers regarded me as too eager to please my superiors, but generally a likable loner notable for my luck in avoiding injury as well as my bravery.

"Then, I think the year was 1916, my luck ran out when I was wounded in the leg by a shell fragment during the Battle of the Somme. It was my first time away from the front after two years of war.

"Following my recovery, I went sightseeing in Berlin, and then was assigned to light duty in Munich. I was appalled at the apathy and anti-war sentiment among German civilians. I blamed the Jews for much of this and saw them as conspiring to spread unrest and undermine the German war effort.

"This idea of an anti-war conspiracy involving Jews became an obsession to add to other anti-Semitic notions I acquired in Vienna, leading to an ever-growing hatred of Jews."

"Like me with the muggle-borns," I said thoughtfully, very intrigued by this man's tale.

"Yes," he sighed, looking sadly at the ground he had sprawled his legs on. "I have only met a few wizards here."

"Grindlewald?"

"Yes, he came too. Just a while back ago."

"I see."

"But he didn't want to wait for you."

"Maybe because I was the one who murdered him . . ."

"But let me finish this so you can understand the similarities between us," he said and continued. ". . .'I finally came to the conviction that I had to take this step' . . . It was the most decisive resolve of my life. From here there was and could be no turning back.

"I remembered writing that in 'Mein Kampf' . . . my book," he added seeing my confused expression.

"You see this symbol on my arm? That's swastika. In the summer of 1920, I made it. Kind of like that Dark Mark of yours . . .

"So anyway, I'd started my own little 'Death Eater' group; except they were called the Nazi's.

"I had power over everything, believing that only people with blonde hair and the correct shade of blue eyes were the 'super race' of my generation.

"But I lost control over the war, over the country, over the Nazi's and then . . . over myself."

He stopped. I didn't want to push the conversation further.

This man would have made an astounding wizard, if I would say so myself. He had the perfect qualities of a pureblood.

"Do you want to know how I died?" he asked softly.

I didn't answer, but he told me anyway.

"So would I," he admitted glumly. "I can't even remember _where_ I died, let alone how. That's what really sucks about this. That's the only thing I can't remember."

"The way I died was completely embarrassing," I muttered.

"Yeah, I know. Killed by a teenager," he said and nodded. "But, you have to admit, the kid did have a lot of help."

"Correct," I agreed. I was starting to like this muggle, and I didn't feel disgusted with myself either, because I knew this man was a lot like me.

"My mother was Jew, you know," he admitted erratically.

"My father was a muggle."

"That bites," he said, cringing a bit. "I wasn't accepted into Art school, you know."

"And I didn't get the Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching post."

The conversation became silent after that. The excitement of my arrival had already disappeared. I had the feeling Hitler wanted to say something, but he left me with my thoughts.

"How long have you been waiting?" I asked suddenly.

He looked a bit surprised by my question, but answered anyway.

"I don't know," he muttered. "I stopped counting years ago, and this place is very neutral. You don't need food or water to stay alive here."

I glanced at the glowing holes in the ground behind us. I certainly did not want to wait for another totalitarian-failure to make the stage. I had made my decision.

"Let's jump."

He looked at me incredulously. Then suddenly his face broke out into a wide grin.

"Let's."

We both stood up from the ground and approached the holes together. We stood there for a moment, uncertain what to do.

"Which one?" he asked me.

I glanced to the hole saying 'heaven' to the one saying 'hell' and then eventually to the one saying 'life'. My head turned back to 'hell' and then back to 'heaven' and finally landed lastly on 'life'. I grinned at my new found friend. He grinned back. He knew what I was thinking. We bended our knees and made ourselves ready.

We jumped.

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**A/N: Hey, Zee here.**

**Thanks so much for reading! I know it's pretty weird but I just HAD to write it. I was so curious to what would happen, you know? Anyway, this is by far my best one-shot ever. My friends and family like it a lot. **

**I also put it in for a competition at my school and I got 85%. But the teacher is older than Voldemort himself so I guess my idea didn't appeal to her (or maybe my writing just sucks).**

**Also, I've re-edited and re-uploaded this thing many times now so I hope this is the final time I will be doing it. And that part on Hitler's history was helped written by one of my friends so that's why it sounds different than the rest of the plot.**

**AND PLEASE REVIEW!! REALLY, I NEED TO KNOW YOU OPNION. IF YOU HATE IT, PLEASE TELL ME. IF YOU LOVE IT, PLEASE TELL ME. REVIEW!! REVIEW!!**

***cough* re- *cough* view . . . **_**(dies).**_


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